Devil's Thirst (The Moretti Men, #1)

by Jill Ramsower

The fact that I should feel obligated to keep quiet out of fear for my safety when I’ve done nothing wrong is a stinging insult I’m sick of enduring.

Amelie will see me for exactly who I am, and she will come to accept that she’s meant for me. I’ll prove to her that my brand of fucked up is what she needs. It may be a challenge, but that doesn’t worry me. I can be relentless when it comes to getting what I want. And I don’t just want Amelie Brooks; I’ll go fucking insane without her.

If I study Amelie any closer, I’ll earn a fucking PhD.

His eyes narrow a fraction. “Not gonna apologize for keeping you safe.” “Locking me in a tower would keep me safe, but it would also make you the villain,” I say with exasperation.

True to his word, he’s back at my door a few minutes later with a loaded duffel bag and several suits on hangers. “What’s all that for?” My mouth is half full, but I’m too distracted to care. “My things. If you won’t tell me who or what’s going on, I have to assume the worst. That means constant supervision. So, congrats, you’ve earned yourself a roommate.”

“I wasn’t joking when I said I’m going to marry you. You’re mine. That means I’ll protect you at all costs. It also means I have the rest of my life to fuck you in every position imaginable, and I plan for us both to live very long, healthy lives. There is absolutely. No. Rush. Understand?”

“I will track you and mark my body with your name and annihilate every one of your enemies. I won’t hide that from you and trick you into thinking you’ve married some motherfucking Prince Charming because I’m not. I’m the villain, and I want you to love me anyway.”

“If I’d known stalkers were so considerate, I would have found one ages ago.”

“Now you’re just buttering me up.” She shoots a playful glare. “What else are you planning?” “Nothing!” I raise my hands to proclaim my innocence. “No actual plans. I have ideas, that’s all.”

“You owe me, Tommaso Donati, for pretending to be my stalker. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.” His eyes widen a fraction. “Owe you? I took a fist to the face for that.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” he breathes. “You going to say something, Sante?” “Yeah, happy wife, happy life.” He shrugs. I grin. Tommy roars.